Angels, sirens and muses

Just words.

Angels, muses and sirens

 

 

I was near death often in my life. I learn Death isn’t an enemy. We must be born and die, we must live and struggle. I bury my second brother in 1989. Twenty years old and the hanging rope was their only friend. Left me dead in heart and mind. I believed if I was kinder, maybe life would have been less painful and death less a temptation for them. Now I soaked myself in good booze and locked doors. I have my 30-30 on the table, I cleaned her twice daily and I write dead-man poetry and I’m waiting for no-one. I returned from work, I listen to the clock radio and drank alone. My journal laid open and no new words to be written. I caressed the 30-30 and I wondered would I be missed. I heard a knock at my door, I opened the door and dear Leona, a long time friend forced her way in. She saw the 30-30 and the empty rum bottles. She came to me and she shook me. What is wrong with you Johnnie? You going to kill yourself? She began to cry and she embraced me. She stayed with me for many days. She caressed my forehead like a lost child and told me often. I love you Johnnie, I love you Johnnie. Please stay with me in this world. Leona took my 30-30 away. Gave it to my good friend Steve. Me and Leona create a bonding contract. I would not do something dumb. Death didn’t win. I was saved by love and a kind muse.

 

 

A new war had started. Old Army didn’t want me at first. I was prior service. When the war kicked in. Old Colonel called me at the recruiting station. He told me, taking prior service now. If you want in, this is the time. Next day I retested and took the Army physical. I was leaving in two weeks. Leona was very sad. She knew I never came back after Jennifer and the suicide of my two brothers. She came to be often during my last two weeks in Ann Arbor. She would come at night and we would hold each other and talk. I told her, I will be okay. I need different, different places and faces. I will miss you and I will come back to you my Leona. Leona asked why would I joined a war to escape her? I told her, Jennifer was a siren. Made me wish for things I didn’t have. You taught me. I would be okay. I’m thankful for you dear Leona.

 

 

The plane landed in Kuwait. The pilot announced all water and gas soldiers off the plane first. I knew this to be a bad sign. Twenty soldiers gathered in the heat of the sun waiting to know their assignment. We were told we must move and tag the dead from Death valley. It was a three-month mission. We moved frozen Iraq soldiers into larger storage containers. It wasn’t a hard task. Dead men left no danger or problems. Us soldiers would discuss the dead. Old Joe, a religion man asked us to pray for the dead. He said friend or not. They are the children of God. To make Joe content and quiet, we did pray. After awhile, the prayers made the job easily. We were more gentle with men who died in a useless war and the poor families were missing and they did not know their ending. Today I’m thankful for Joe, he was our angel. He made us understand, every life had meaning. We must respect the dead and learn to live each day with the vigor. That could be our last.

 

I got home from the war and I returned to Ann Arbor. My friend told me he knew Jennifer phone number. I called her and requested to see her. She told me she had a child and she would love to see me and I drove at 12 pm to her apartment. She answered the door in long tee-sheet and beautiful long tempting legs for me to see. She embraced me and I told her. I was glad to see her. She tried to apology for the past. I told her, the past is just lessons for us. Today is a good day, I have found you again.  She laid her head into my chest and I caressed her long legs. She told me she was going to be a nurse and she was in school. I listen and was  falling into her blue eyes. I told her I was lucky, war was over when I got there. I was involved in the clean-up. We slept together and I held her tightly. We met almost everyday for my 30 days of my leave. We made no promises to be forsaken. She had turn colder, age and life can turn siren to muse. Muse to siren. Dear Jennifer became my muse.

 

Today death is far away. My brothers taught me. Live, not die. Lead with kindness, concern and love. We must listen to our friends and family. I have met death in many places. He wasn’t coming for me. Death can be woman or man. When death comes. He is just another friend we must know. Death taught me. Living and trying is the key to life. No honored life for a dormant life.

 

 
Coyote/John Castellenas

Author's Note

A re-write.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Your words touch me to the core. I want to weep for your losses. Through your personal losses and what you have witnessed in war, you have learnt the true value of life. Every life is a blessing, how easily we forget that in conflict. You deserve to live the rest of your days in peace and harmony Coyote.

Your friend Chris

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Chris. Every life is a blessing. I did find my peace.

[h d e rushin]

I was at a funeral yesterday afternoon for the mother of a friend. She was 88....The preacher said "anything over 70 is barrowed time". I looked down at her, still, hands folded over her chest, a rush of white and pink flowers and a powder blue casket with silver railings....All so beautiful I mused....And I still didn't want it for myself. Wanting to die is a heavy burden to carry while living. Of all the things to be certain of, you have to be damn sure you really want it. It is the greatest of all human conflicts like some large subcutaneous vein that carries truth and reason, and logic to the parts of the soul while that same soul grapples with hurt, heartache and sorrow. Yet
you tried to capture those sequences; those life choices in this poem, and let me be honest, I didn't know how to react after I read this. How to hold my lips, in what pockets I should put my hands, should I try to sleep on my left side tonight? What I mean is that, with such little power I have, I hope that you are healed / It's hard as f*****g hell to color butterflies when a person is wounded....dana

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Dana. I got lucky, a good woman saved me. Now I have three grandchildren and I am kinder. I learn everyday is a blessing and make the good days last forever. Thank you dear friend for reading and the kind words.

[Troy Henson]

So much depth, feeling and emotion here. I could never say I understand what you felt, witnessed or experienced but this piece certainly allows me to feel. Thank you for sharing

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Troy for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.

[Sir Aphid]

Death is kind of like a raven hovering overhead throughout my entire life. It waits for me to fall so it can come feast on me. It laughs and cries with me, and sees all that I've done. I respect it. Even when I fall, it does what it must and devours me. I hold no resentment towards it. Everything has it's purpose.

I like the juxtaposition you made here. You show death: war, dead bodies, prayer, and angels. Then you show life: Love, sex, emotion, courage. The two go hand in hand. They are two parts in one whole: life and death. Death and renewal. Love and loss. We go through the cycle many times in life before the final moments do come. Even after our soul and consciousness are gone, we continue to be a part of the infinite circle.

It's a very nice story.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Sir Aphid. I appreciate the comment.

[Stella Armour]

What a wonderful influence Old Joe was to have you pray for all the deceased soldiers whichever side they fought for, they were all sons, brothers and husbands and i hope the the ones that tended our soldiers bodies were just as gentle and kind.
Life is a learning curve and so many things sent to try us and make us stronger and better human beings ...

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree dear Stella. We are always learning and thank you for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.